


The Will of Arlathan

by sbdrag



Series: Of Magisters and Elves [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Antiva, Dwarves, Qunari, Tevinter, pretty much all ocs until way further along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4494489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So how do an Antivan prince, a lyrium smuggling dwarf, a magister's young daughter, and a Qunari foot soldier end up uncovering an ancient elven weapon that isn't quite what it seems?</p>
<p>Naturally, purely by chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ACT I: THE DEEP ROADS

If you think about it, a lot of things start with death. Sometimes in ways we can’t even imagine. I think my death may have started a revolution. Or maybe I just want it to mean something more than it did. I was only nine, I didn’t have time to accomplish much. Maybe that’s why I’ve stuck around to see what happens, instead of… doing whatever it is spirits do when they… well, don’t stick around.

Let me start from the beginning.

My name is Aria Pollux. My father was a Magister in the Tevinter Imperium. He… well, he also died. Protecting me. We were in Antiva; I can’t remember if it was a holiday or business. Maybe both. Patrem was funny like that. Since mom died, he always wanted me to have fun, even when he was working. 

I guess he wasn’t expecting the Qunari.

They showed up while we were riding in the countryside. Patrem and I had dracolisks, so he thought we could outrun them. Or maybe that’s just what he told me. A spear hit his mount, and he yelled at me to keep going. I hesitated; I was scared. Patrem picked himself off the ground and looked me in the eye. 

“Na via lerno victoria,” he said. _Only the living know victory._ And then he turned around, to face the Qunari. 

And I ran away. _Living is Victory._ Our family motto. We had been in many wars; on both the winning and the losing side. But we survived. That was our legacy. That was what my father was telling me. 

We headed into the woods, up a rise. The Qunari didn’t take long to follow; they were ruthless and efficient. My dracolisk was cut down, and I scraped my knee as it almost fell on top of me. But I had to keep running, so I did. The only thing I stopped to grab was my staff. 

I kept tripping up the rise, sending back lighting and fire. I think I hit at least one of them, but I never stopped to look. And that was how I met the man that would start a revolution.

Prince Giuseppe Gentile of Antiva was the nephew of the man my father had come to Antiva to meet. Unambitious, the prince had a reputation for spoiling the political gambits of others for no other reason than it amused him. For that, he was often a target of the infamous Antivan Crows. Which had eventually led him to adopt a bodyguard, one he trusted.

Eloi Perrault, formerly a templar, and formerly of Orlais, was this bodyguard. He was over a decade Giuseppe’s senior, and loyal out of gratitude and unflagging dedication to duty. The dour knight seemed an odd choice of companion for the oft amused if not outgoing prince, but they got along in their own way, I suppose. I didn’t get to know Eloi very well.

The pair was in the countryside to meet with a Carta dwarf named Brynja who smuggled lyrium. After all, a templar without lyrium wasn’t much of a templar. Not that Giuseppe needed him to be a templar very often to begin with, but it was still always useful to have a templar.

It was at the top of the rise that I ran into them, Giuseppe quite literally. The Qunari weren’t far behind, though Karasaad was much closer.

### 

“Grab the kid and get in here!” Brynja yelled, grabbing Aria herself instead and dragging her into the Deep Roads entrance. Giuseppe swore, pulling his whip off his belt as Eloi drew his sword and shield. The prince stepped behind the templar as Eloi deflected a spear with his shield.

“Zat vill cut through me, if I take a direct ‘it,” he muttered, more for the sake of Giuseppe, who had a tendency to forget he wore leather armor. Or ignored it, and Eloi honestly wasn’t sure which option was preferable. At least only one Qunari was actually visible.

“Mm? What was that? I could not hear you over you accent,” Giuseppe drawled, laying his own Antivan accent on thickly. Eloi rolled his eyes, but charged to meet the advancing Qunari.

“Ashkost kata!” the Karasaad said, swinging his two handed axe over his head. He brought it down heavily, and Eloi used his shield to deflect it. He moved in, closing the distance between them to strike at the Qunari’s side. He was caught by the haft of the axe striking his shield and batting him aside. He stumbled, but kept his feet, backing out of range of the axe.

“Can you block the entrance?” Brynja asked. Aria looked at her, eyes wide. She stood a head above the dwarven woman, but she still had her staff in her hand. She looked back, to where Eloi was squaring off with the Karasaad while Eloi did his best to be a distraction. “Kid!”

“Yes,” she said, mumbling as she turned. Her hands were shaking, and she was sure her staff was going to slide out of her grip. 

“Hey! Idiots! Get your sodding asses in here already!” Brynja shouted, voice carrying. Giuseppe looked back at her, and at Aria and her staff, and realized what she meant. 

“Eloi! Back!” He yelled, and took out a flask, kicking it into the air. Eloi backed up as well as he could, having done this before, but unwilling to take his eyes off the Qunari. When the flask was above the Karasaad, Giuseppe cracked his whip, the weighted balls on the end smashing it. 

The Qunari growled, swinging blindly as the liquid hit his eyes and burned. It did little to effect his bronze skin, but it didn’t need to. That was when Eloi broke and ran back to the Deep Roads entrance. Karasaad let his axe fall to the ground, swiping at his eyes. When he realized that was only rubbing more of the poison into them, he stopped. 

“What’s in that?” Brynja asked, as Giuseppe jogged past Aria. He noted the way her knees were shaking, but didn’t say anything. 

“Oh, you know, some blood lotus, some concentrated rashvine,” he said. “Works better on a blade, but blinds pretty well in a pinch.”

“I noticed,” Brynja said, grudgingly impressed. “Move your ass, templar!”

“You try running in zis!” Eloi demanded, meaning his plate mail.

“Exactly why I don’t,” Brynja said. “Start shaking, kid, he’ll make it through.”

“Y-yes,” Aria said, and her hands started to glow as she brought forth the magic. The glow lit up the gem at the top of her staff, and Eloi was just under the entrance as the rocks above the entrance began to tremble. 

That was when a spear ripped through the back of his armor, poking through the former templar’s chest.

“Eloi…” Giuseppe said, meaning for it to be a shout, but finding he hadn’t the air for it. Brynja cursed, running forward, and Aria stopped casting in surprise.

“Break the sodding wall or we’re all dead!” the dwarf said, and supported the templar on one side. He’d just barely kept his feet, and Brynja’s help got him out of danger of falling rocks. Giuseppe stood, as if rooted in place, watching.

Aria took in a shaky breath, and swallowed, forcing the magic into her hands again. Then she yelled in surprise, as the Karasaad came into view.

The sound broke through Giuseppe’s shock and he rushed forward. He struck out with his whip, and the Qunari took a step back to avoid it. Aria had held onto the spell, and the prince tried not to get too close as rocks came clattering down. His main focus was keeping the Qunari back, as more appeared outside behind him. 

It was as the Karasaad grabbed his whip, intending to pull the prince forward, that the big rocks came down. One struck him in the head, and Giuseppe just pulled his whip back in time as the rock fall covered the door. After a few tense minutes filled with the sound of panting, the prince rushed to the templar’s side.

“He’s not doing so well,” Brynja said, moving away. And it was, all things considered, an understatement. Eloi had blood dripping from his mouth, and his already pale complexion was ghostly white. Giuseppe leaned down next to him, heart hammering as he took the templar’s hand.

“E… Eloi, can you… can you hear me?” he asked, smoothing back the man’s hair. The templar’s gaze was a bit hazy, but he managed to focus on Giuseppe. 

“Sorry…” he said, coughing up more blood. “I’m not going to make it zrough zis one.”

“I… I know,” Giuseppe said, still stroking the former templar’s hair. He tried to summon up a smile, but failed. 

“Beppe?” Eloi asked, raising a hand to the prince’s cheek. 

“Yes?”

“Next time,” the former templar said, and snorted. “Next time, don’t vait so long.”

And Eloi slipped his hand to the back of Giuseppe’s neck, tugging him forward. He didn’t have the strength to force it, but the prince let him. They kissed, awkwardly, and poorly, and Eloi’s hand slipped to the ground in the midst of it. When Giuseppe pulled back, there was blood on his lips and chin, and his eyes were watering.

“No offense,” Brynja said, standing next to Aria, who’d collapsed to her knees after causing the rock slide. “But that was kind of gross.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Giuseppe asked, and laughed, a little hysteria bubbling up his throat. He pulled away from the dead templar slumped against the wall, falling onto his back, laughing harder. Giuseppe curled into a ball on his side, laughing so hard he couldn’t breath, covering his face, finding that he couldn’t stop. Brynja sighed, rolling her eyes, as he turned back to Aria.

“You ok, kid?” she asked, voice pitched low. Aria didn’t think she knew what ok was, at that moment.

“They… they killed him…” she said, shrinking down further. “Patrem meum…”

“I have no idea what that means, but as long as you don’t start laughing, I think we’ll be ok,” Brynja said, glaring at the still laughing prince. 

“Vivens, est victoria,” Aria said. Then she made a choked sound, leaning her forehead into her staff. She repeated the same phrase, over and over, softly, like a prayer. Brynja sighed in frustration, and went over to kick Giuseppe. It didn’t seem to affect him much.

“In case you forgot,” she said, loudly. “We are in the sodding deep roads. Break down if you want, but if you draw darkspawn to us, I will end you myself.”

That did manage to pierce the haze of Giuseppe’s mind, and he struggled to control himself. But, when he managed to get the laughing under control, with enough breath to reduce the color in his cheeks, he started to sob instead. Brynja groaned, walking away with an eyeroll.

“By the sodding Ancestors’ stone asses,” she muttered, passing the still muttering Aria. She went to the way leading further in, and began setting up traps. She knew letting the surfacers have their breakdowns wasn’t necessarily the brightest move in darkspawn infested tunnels she hadn’t yet told them she’d never used for more than storage, but she also knew that if they were going to break down anyways, she would rather they did it now. Before they were travelling through the darkspawn infested tunnels. 

When she’d finished with her traps, the dwarf went back to check on the surfacers. Aria was crying now, quietly, hugging her staff. Giuseppe was quiet too, which Brynja hoped was a good thing. Their chances of getting out of here alive were bad enough without being down a rogue.

The prince was curled into a ball on his side, hands over his face. But he was breathing, which meant he’d either calmed down, or simply didn’t have anything left to cry. Or throw up, the dwarf noticed with distaste. She inched closer, and kicked Giuseppe’s foot. 

“Get up,” she said. When this prompted no response, she kicked the prince again, harder. Slowly, like the movement pained him, Giuseppe unfurled. He sat up, eyes red and puffy, to glare at Brynja.

“What?” he asked, throat raw and dry. Brynja snorted, reaching into one of her packs and pulling out a mostly clean cloth.

“Clean the blood and vomit off you, for starters,” she said. The prince squinted as he reached for the cloth, and Brynja cursed in her head as she realized he could hardly see. Sodding humans and their poor eyesight… “The we need to come up with a plan.”

“A plan?” Giuseppe asked, wiping away the blood and vomit from his face. There was some on his chest, too. He tried to get at that, but it was more difficult. 

“More than one,” Brynja said, squatting down. She pointed at Eloi. “We need to take care of him, and I know you surfacers burn your dead, so we need to find a way to do that. I may be an honorless duster, but he wasn’t. He just fell in with you.”

Giuseppe barked a laugh, hurting his throat. He supposed that was one way of putting it. 

“And what are the other plans?” he asked, tossing the rag aside. With Eloi’s blood and his vomit and snot on it, he doubted Brynja wanted it back. He wasn’t wrong.

“Light. A way out of here,” she said. 

“You don’t know?” Giuseppe asked. Brynja sighed, standing.

“I only used this place for storage,” she said. “I was born in Orzammar, but I’m a surfacer now. I use the surface to get here.”

“We’re all going to die,” Giuseppe said, chuckling. Death seemed like such a funny thing. He didn’t know how he’d never seen it before.

“Probably,” Brynja agreed. “But, until then, I’m going to act like we’ll live through this. So. Light. Way out.”

The pair looked up as the room filled with tiny floating lights, like stars. They looked over at Aria. The girl wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robes, standing. 

“I… I make light,” she said. She wasn’t used to Common, not the way she was used to Tevene. “Et docebat me facere.”

“I don’t speak Tevene,” Giuseppe said, looking around in wonder. 

“Me neither,” Brynja said. “But she seems to speak enough Common to get the point across. Hey, kid!”

Aria forced herself to her feet, wiping at her nose again. She walked towards the others, and Brynja steadied her. She pointed at Eloi.

“Fire?” she asked. Aria nodded, then looked at Giuseppe. The prince stood. He felt as exhausted as the girl looked. He looked at Eloi’s corpse, eyes mercifully closed. He cleared his throat, and tried to remember the words. Eloi was Andrastean, in his very bones, or so he used to say. 

“The Light … The Light shall lead her safely / Through the paths of this world, and into the next,” he started. Once he started, the verses flooded back to him, like the templar stood behind him, reciting them. “For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. / As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, / She should see fire and go towards Light. / The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, / And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker / Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.”

He nodded to Aria, and she took a breath before setting the body on fire. She had to light it several times, before it stayed aflame, and they remained until it was over. 

“So… you and him… weren’t a thing?” Brynja asked, watching the body burn. It was disgusting, she reflected, and smelled like shit, but she wasn’t going to drag them all off without laying a warrior to rest.

“No,” Giuseppe said. “I… I suppose I was a bit of a coward about it.”

“Shame,” Brynja said. “You seemed to get along. I guess.”

“Most people would disagree with that,” Giuseppe said, feeling more and more tired as the fire went on.

“Most people are idiots,” Brynja said. “Anyway, pretty face like yours? You’ll find someone else.”

“I don’t think I will,” Giuseppe said. He started in surprise when a hand gripped his. He looked down to see Aria, looking up at him. He offered her a truly pathetic smile, and squeezed her hand as reassuringly as he could. 

“Whatever,” Brynja said, crossing her arms. With a proper, adult mage, this probably didn’t take so long. “Guess we have to get out of here first. Sodding stone balls of the Ancestors…”

“That we do,” Giuseppe said, letting his mind dance among the flames. “That we do.”


	2. Chapter 2

So, we didn’t meet under the best circumstances. I suppose that’s a bit of an understatement, really.

Burning Eloi’s corpse was difficult, and horrifying. But it had to be done. Before a demon decided to posses him. That would have been worse, for sure. I don’t think Brynja understood why we had to do it, but she did wait until it was over before bossing everyone around. She seemed to like doing that, for the most part. I think it was just because Guiseppe wasn’t doing anything, and I could barely speak Common.

And I was a kid. That may have had something to do with it, too. 

I remember how cold it seemed to be in the thaig. And how dark, even with my magic light. The light actually made things seem darker; beyond the light it was completely dark. I’d been scared, to go off on my own. But I didn’t want to admit it. I was a Magister’s daughter. Polluxes didn’t get scared. 

But it was still strange, scrounging for edible mushrooms. I could still hear Guiseppe and Brynja; their voices echoed in the empty halls. It was almost like it was haunted, ghosts just barely being heard. I tried not to think about that. It made me all shivery and scared again.

I’d like to say that was all of our problems, but they just kept seeming to pile up. With everything that happened after, it might have been better if we’d just stayed in the thaig. Or tried to dig our way out. 

Of course, that would have led to other problems.

### 

“This was probably a thaig, once,” Brynja said. “Surprising they’d have a door outside, though.”

“A what?” Giuseppe asked. He was in an adjoining room, looking for anything useful. They had no supplies, not having planned a trip through the deep roads. So far, anything that could have been of us was long gone or destroyed with age. 

“A thaig,” Brynja said, rolling her eyes. She knew having the prince search was practically useless, but it kept him busy, at least. The little mage was collecting mushrooms; she apparently had some herbology knowledge. Brynja didn’t relish the thought of living off mushrooms, but she’d had worse. She’d had better, since joining the Carta, but mostly, she’d had worse. 

“What’s a thaig?” Giuseppe asked, picking up a grimy lantern. He grimaced at the filth, but figured it might come in handy. Aria’s little lights were working, but there was a good chance they’d need to fight ahead, and the mage was young. She’d barely kept on her feet after collapsing the entrance way, he didn’t know how she’d fare after an extended battle. 

“It’s like a house, but for dwarves,” Brynja said. Unlike many of her people, she didn’t think dwarves were more or less impressive than other races. In fact, she thought all of them were pretty equally stupid. But that was probably just because she was a duster, and it was hard to think of people that beat and spat on you as superior to anybody. “Well… it’s where deshyrs and their families used to live, before the darkspawn.”

“Deshyrs?” Giuseppe asked. If there were lanterns, he reasoned, there would be some type of fuel source nearby. Brynja, meanwhile, was picking the lock on a heavyset chest bolted into the wall. She thought from the decor this room might have been a lord’s study or something, which meant the chest was bound to hold something. Hopefully something useful.

“Assembly lords. Nobles,” she said. “Ha!”

“What is it?” Giuseppe asked, coming back into the room. He hadn’t managed to find any fuel, but had the lantern with him. Brynja dug around in the chest, setting things aside as she searched. 

“Got the lock open,” she said. “And… yes!”

“Paper?” Giuseppe asked, as it was indeed parchment that the dwarf was waving aloft. She rolled her eyes at him, clearing debris off the desk nearby and laying them out. 

“Maps,” she said, examining the first one. “I was right. Ulgan Thaig. Fuck, what a stupid name. Looks like they didn’t make it into this age.”

“Right,” Giuseppe said, examining the other contents of the chest. Ancient coin, more probably important documents, a few trinkets… he paused, noticing a glimmer at the bottom of the chest. Glancing at Brynja, the dwarf still muttering over the maps, he reached down, moving some papers around until he felt something cold and smooth. He wrapped his hand around it, it was hardly bigger, and picked it up to examine it. 

It was a red gem, and it warmed in the prince’s hand. He blinked, trying to clear his vision as shadows seemed to dance before his eyes. And then he realized that they weren’t shadows, but visions. And they weren’t in front of him. 

He closed his eyes, seeing memories of things he didn’t understand. A verdant forest. A city of magic and light and crystals in trees, more glorious than anything he’d ever seen. A great battlefield strewn with the bodies of elves. A man in black leather armor, a crow perched on his arm. A sense of anger and loss, under overwhelming loneliness. The entrance to the thaig, restored, a great mountain rising above it. Betrayal, a dark cell, men in strange clothing. Humans. 

“Hey, prince,” Brynja said, suddenly startling Giuseppe out of the strange thoughts. He was sweating, and he wiped his brow in surprise, looking down at the dwarf. She was looking back up at him curiously, arching a brow. He could sense it now, the presence in the gem, and it could sense him. There were no more memories, however; it held back.

“Sorry, what?” he asked. Brynja looked at the gem, which the prince clutched tighter on instinct. 

“Whatcha got there?” she asked. Giuseppe considered lying, but then looked at the gem. It seemed stupid, to lie now.

“I… I have no idea,” he said. He squinted, trying to get more from the gem. He felt the impression of a smile, but whatever it was within was not giving up its secrets so easily. 

“You look kind of pale,” Brynja said. “Might be a good idea to leave the thing behind.”

“... no, I think it might be useful,” he said, just noticing that the gem was at the end of a thin gold chain. He slid it over his head, tucking the gem under his armor. It felt warm against his skin. Almost comforting. Brynja looked at him warily, then shrugged. If it became a problem, she’d smash the thing herself. 

“Whatever,” she said, then waved him over to the desk. “Look at this.”

“What is it?” Giuseppe asked, leaning over the dwarf’s shoulder.

“Our way out,” Brynja replied. Then grimaced. “I hope. This is a map to another thaig that leads to the surface. Or, at least, I think it’s a thaig. It’s got these weird flowery letters…”

“Belaravasmaan,” Giuseppe said, meaning surfacing as he read. He saw brief flashes of high halls, filled with glittering crystals, and a beautiful garden. Dwarves and elves mixing, exchanging information and memories. Brynja eyed him suspiciously.

“That sounded pretty elfy,” she said. “Didn’t take you for the kind who knew about that shit.”

“I’m… not,” Giuseppe said, hand going to the gem. He felt an urging there, to go to this place. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. 

“Great, weird magic stones that know elfy shit,” Brynja said, rolling her eyes. “Well, if it’ll help get us out of here and back on the surface, I’m all for it.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Giuseppe said, scanning the rest of the map. “But what did you mean when you said you _hoped_ this would be the way out?”

“These maps are old, and the tunnels are probably older,” Brynja said. “Between disrepair and the darkspawn, who knows how much of it is still intact?”

Giuseppe felt a poke, like a question. It was as if his memories of darkspawn were brought to the surface. He’d never seen one, but he’d heard plenty of the Chantry lore, and had a vague picture of men with black eyes and gray skin. The thought of running into one, even though he knew little, made him shiver. 

Aria returned to the room then, dragging a mostly put together box into the room. It was large, but only about half full. Bryna grimaced, looking at it. 

“It’ll take at least two weeks to get to this Belavasman place,” she said, picking up one of the mushrooms. “This is hardly enough for a few days!”

“Belaravasmaan,” Giuseppe corrected absently, more concerned with how they were going to transport the mushrooms. Aria looked tired after pulling the crate in, and wiped her brow on her sleeve. He had a sudden vision of another room in the thaig. It was making his head hurt less each time. “Wait a moment.”

He turned, walking away. One of Aria’s lights followed him, just over his shoulder. It was odd, trying to find the room when so much had changed. He wondered just how long ago it was that the memories leading him had been here, when it was full of dwarves rushing about on their business. Ulgan thaig had been a major trading post, once. They’d done a lot of business with the elves. Busy merchants also made fantastic marks. Giuseppe shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that weren’t his own.

Eventually, he found the room he was looking for. It seemed to be some sort of stable, though it lacked any sign of animal life. What he was after, however, was near the back. Most of the carts had been designed to be pulled by gurns, were rotting or in a state of disrepair. But there was one that had, for whatever reason (wealth, the gem supplied) been made of metal. There was also a cache of oil nearby, which Giuseppe used on the wheels first. Bracing himself, he started to pull it.

He almost fell over. The cart was deceptively light, and the prince gave it a closer look. Not metal, he realized, wood. Enchanted ironbark, carved with elven designs. A gift, he thought, as a memory of its presentation came to mind. Sighing, Giuseppe put the rest of the oil into the cart, along with a few lanterns. He pulled it back out, through the thaig to the others.

“By the Stone,” Brynja said, running up to it. “Where did you get that?”

“Some kind of stable, I think,” Giuseppe said. The dwarf arched a brow. The prince sighed. “Yes, the weird magical elfy gem told me.”

“Gem?” Aria asked. Giuseppe pulled it out by the chain, showing it to the girl. She blinked at it, then gently took it in her hands. She tilted her head, as if listening. “A spirit.”

“I figured as much,” Giuseppe said, pulling the gem back and tucking it away. Aria bit her lip, then pointed to where the gem rested.

“Danger,” she said. The prince frowned, but the gem actually agreed. It pulsed, visions of demons and spirits swirling in Giuseppe’s mind. He frowned, needing a minute to regain his composure. 

“Yes,” he agreed, “Dangerous.”

“Well, it can’t be more dangerous than getting killed by a horde of darkspawn,” Brynja said. “We’ll worry about it when we’re out of here. If it tries something funny, just smash the sodding thing.”

“Works for me,” Giuseppe said, feeling a wave of relief from the gem. He wondered how a spirit had managed to be trapped in a gem, and once again saw images of a dark room and strange men in cloaks. Shaking his head, he hefted the crate of mushrooms onto the cart. It was unfortunate, he reflected, that they would have nothing to pull the cart. But it would be worse if they had no way to take supplies with them. If worse came to worse, they could always leave it behind.

The gem sent him an image of a team of worm like things with legs pulling the cart. Deepstalkers. But it was quickly accompanied with a feeling of amusement. A joke, then. Giuseppe rolled his eyes, rubbing his forehead. Maker preserve him, this was going to be a long trip, one way or the other. 

Back in the entrance way, the stones blocking the door moved. 

It was just a shift at first, barely a tremor. And then they kept moving, shifting and rolling, until they suddenly burst upwards. 

Karasaad shouldered the bigger rocks aside, panting as he got to his feet, clutching his axe. The weapon trailed on the ground behind him as he dragged himself forward. He sat, heavily, against one of the walls. The Qunari examined the room he was in.

He was unfamiliar with the architecture. Given it was underground, he assumed it was dwarven. That was all he could tell in the dark. He was not meant to know these things, after all. He was just a soldier. He growled, running a hand through his hair. That was when he noticed part of one of his horns had broken off. 

The Qunari felt the damage. It was only the last quarter that was missing, but it still rankled him. At least it would make him seem more imposing. Though it didn’t seem to make much difference among the basra. Karasaad looked back at the door. No, no one would be coming through. It was a wonder he had even survived himself. 

He stood, lifting his axe to rest on his shoulder. The bas-saarebas was still within, and his mission was clear. The Qun demanded she be slain. The others as well, for shielding her. They would clearly do the same for other saarebas, and it meant they were too stupid to see the danger. 

He moved with purpose, although he was still recovering from the rock fall. His silver eyes roamed, watching for threats as he followed the sound of voices. The basra probably assumed him dead. Their mistake for not making sure. 

When he turned, ducking through a doorway, the bas-saarebas cried out a warning, and he quickly jumped to the side, dodging a lump of rock hurled at him. The dwarf and the human reacted as well, the former drawing out twin daggers as she dove into the shadows, the latter unfurling his whip with a crack. The woman could not possibly mean to fight him, but he did not have time puzzle over that. 

Instead, he went for the bas-saarebas. 

He was stopped when the human jumped in front of him. The man looked pale. Good, he should be afraid. It was clear he was not a true warrior; he would fall easily. But there was that damnable whip, striking at his face. This time, he did not hesitate, holding up his arm. The leather stung as it wrapped around his arm, but he ignored it as he pulled the man forward, lifting his axe in anticipation. 

When he spotted the dagger, almost too late, he twisted to fling the human across the room instead. No doubt it was poisoned, after what had happened earlier. At least the basra had learned from their last encounter. Karasaad ignored him, turning his attention to the bas-saarebas once again. This time, the stone fist connected solidly with his torso.

Karasaad fell, the breath knocked out of him by the impact. He laid there, dots swimming in front of his eyes from the pain. He struggled to rise, breathing painful. Then something landed on his chest; the dwarf. He was knocked back to the ground, head hitting the stone hard. He snarled, but gave pause to the blades at his neck. 

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” she asked, scowling. 

“Uh, Brynja?”

That was the other basra, the human. The dwarf kept her eyes on him, though Karasaad did not know why she hesitated.

“Little busy here,” she said. 

“You’re about to much more busy,” the other basra said. With a noise of frustration, the dwarf leapt away from him. She looked up, behind him as he regained his feet.

“Fuck the Stone!” she said, face contorting in equal parts horror and anger. Karasaad turned, wary of a trap, to see the basra backing into the room, holding his shoulder. From the doorway, things were spilling into the room. The Qunari had never seen their like, and knew immediately that he would not wish to again. They had eyes like black pits, fangs and claws. They carried weapons and made sounds that struck even Karasaad as terrible. 

And he knew there were too many to handle alone. 

“Basra!” he said, drawing the attention of the human. He tossed back the man’s whip, and that was all the time they had before the creatures were upon them.


End file.
